


Under the Black Flag

by Heinouskid



Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Minor Character Death, google is bad at translations, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heinouskid/pseuds/Heinouskid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kootrahd Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag AU. Jordan Mathewson is the notorious pirate-assassin of the seas. Aleksandr Vitalyevich is the son of a secretive Russian Baron, and he should absolutely not get involved with the likes of Jordan. Shark hunting, treasure seeking, and evading angry guards do not make for the ideal romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Black Flag

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to do this fic for the longest time ahhhh. So kootrahd Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag AU? YUP.
> 
> I took some liberties with historical/nautical accuracy by the way lol. POV will switch throughout the fic.
> 
> update schedule is tentatively monthly. working on other fics!!

1717 AD  
Early Morning  
Caribbean Sea

The humid hot air was disgustingly oppressive to Aleks' senses. More accustomed to the crisp chill of Russian temperatures, this new weather was like attempting to breathe in cotton. To make matters worse, the constant sway of the ship only served to make him feel ill. Aleks longed for stable ground and cooling winds.

Aleks mindlessly wiped the sweat off his brow and clung to the wooden railing separating him from the ocean depths. Hopefully they'll reach the port of Havana quickly and he'd be able to disembark from this wretched Frigate. God forbid his father hear him insult his precious ship. The great _Zhemchug_ , apple of his father's eye and a source of pride for the Russian Imperial Navy. The frigate was impressively built, quick as a whip and carrying 30 guns on the single flush gun deck. Currently it was being used to escort Aleks' father and his most trusted men to Cuba, as some sort of political business. Aleks wasn't aware of the details, all he knew was that a Cuban official wanted to meet Mikhail Vitalyevich the Baron. And that in turn meant his 19 year old son must join the journey, despite Aleks having little interest in his father's affairs.

If Aleks was being honest with himself, he never felt particularly close to his father. The older man always seemed to keep his distance, especially after the death of Aleks' mother.

Startling Aleks from his thoughts was a sharp call from the crow's nest above. "Havana spotted due west in the distance! Keep her steady and watch the rigging!"

The sailors ran to complete their duties, leaving Aleks to watch with no real interest. As soon as his father finished his business here they would return home. Away from the heat and the mosquitos and the seasickness. He doubted anything life-changing would happen in the short time he'd spend on the island of Cuba.

______________________________________________________________

The time spent aboard his ship was in all honesty Jordan's favorite moments. It had nothing to do with the fact he was the captain (Well, perhaps a little). He felt as though he was born to command the wheel of a fine ship, to brave the tempest waves of the ocean. With a loyal crew supporting him, there was no place Jordan Mathewson would rather be.

Being a assassin pirate was just a bonus.

"Oi captain, the target is moving in position. Care to give orders before she slips away?" That loud voice could only belong to James Wilson, the one and only Master Gunner. Jordan's crew, all from the Brotherhood, was small for a ship, but they committed to their duties on board The Cursed Creature, and pledged service to Captain Mathewson. James was one of the first to join the crew, alongside Daniel and Seamus.

"There's no shame in thinking over strategies and schemes, especially for a task this size. You should try it out now and then." Jordan said airily and proceeded to ignore James' defensive sputtering. There was a plan to kick into action. Besides, his crew knew he had a habit of teasing and gloating. In the end he was a more than capable leader able to spearhead missions given to them by the higher-ups.

Dan was already up and attentive, facing the ship's captain. There couldn't be a quartermaster better than Daniel Gildow, or one who so fearlessly confronted their captain when they disagreed.

"We don't need to raise the black yet," said Jordan "just slow us down as we approach." As the crew scattered to their places he called out "And make sure to prepare the gangway and weapons! The target will be killed as quick and neat as possible. And if we stumble upon some gold they have stored, well then that's their bad luck. Remember: Nothing is true..."

"Everything is permitted." The crew intoned in one unified, simultaneous voice. They were ready.

The Cursed Creature neared the Russian frigate. An English flag was enough to ward off any early suspicion, so by the time the enemy crew had noticed them rise a Jolly Roger it was too late to flee. Cutlasses were unsheathed and pistols were readied. Jordan felt the tension amongst his men spike as boarding hooks were tossed and hooked on the enemy ship. The weight of his flintlock pistol was reassuring in his hand, a reminder to fire a warning shot into the air. This close and he could see fear twist the foreigners' faces. Good. They were smart enough to realize surrender was the best option. One or two foolhardy souls desperately hacked at the ropes dragging their ship closer to the pirates but it was fruitless. Nicholas and James put a stop to that nonsense quickly. And while his crew laid waste to any resistance, Jordan slipped past the chaos, into the captain's quarters where he knew his target hid.

It was spacious and kept tidy, not unlike Jordan's own quarters. An expensive looking carpet (was that a Turkish design?) adorned a great portion of the floor. The large wooden wardrobe in the corner was obviously crafted with care and time. Various ornamental trinkets glittered temptingly to Jordan, inviting him to steal them away. He regarded them thoughtfully for a moment before deciding he had a much more important goal to finish. There wasn't another soul in the room however. Too quiet. Strange, he could have sworn...

Jordan barely had time to register the doors of the wardrobe slam open before someone lurched out with a snarl of anger. He managed to catch a glimpse of windswept oaken hair and burning eyes in the attack. This man, practically a boy by appearance, had caught him off guard and was armed with nothing but his self.

The scuffle was quick to end. Jordan had suffered some bruises by the stranger's hands but he had the upper hand in strength and skill. It was easy to grab skinny wrists and pin them down to the floor. Now he had the chance to properly take a look at the little ambusher, despite him struggling to wriggle free. He looked young, all slim limbs and floppy hair and pale skin that spoke of a life raised far away from the tropical sun. Definitely not a merchant or some other low class individual, considering the fine linen shirt and delicately embroidered waistcoat the boy wore.

" _Ukhodi! Ostavit' svoy korabl'_!"

Jordan's brows furrowed at the use of an unfamiliar language. "I don't understand a lick of what you're saying, so the next words coming from your pretty lips better be in the Queen's English, boy."

The other man sputtered inelegantly for a bit at his teasing tone of voice and glared up at the rogue. "I said get off my ship. You... scum." He faltered at the end of his weak insult. Add the heavy Russian accent and Jordan couldn't help but chuckle. At least he could understand him now.

"Now listen here, you aren't the man I'm looking for. Have you seen a noble sort of fellow, in his mid 40s, dark eyes and light brown hair? Goes by the name of Mikhail Vitalyevich? Him and I are due for a meeting."

His captive huffed in shock and attempted to slam his knee into Jordan's belly. Some quick maneuvering soon had his legs trapped beneath the pirate captain, who grinned down in triumph. "Take it easy now, all I need to know is where Vitalyelvich is."

There was the briefest of moments were the Russian's eyes flickered to the side and back to Jordan's face, almost too quick to notice. A smile spread slow as molasses on his rosy lips. "Maybe he already knows where you are."

Something blunt collided with the side of Jordan's face, hard enough to send him reeling away. Pain ricocheted in his head and something warm trickled down his temple. There wasn't time to nurse his wounds, however, now that a new opponent made his mark. Someone grabbed him by the collar of his coat and yanked him up on his feet. The figure that greeted him was older, sharp in haughtiness, with light brown hair and dark eyes. There he was.

Jordan heard footsteps clamber away from behind him, probably the young Russian fleeing the room. The target, Mikhail, snarled in his mother tongue and pulled back a fist to strike. No time to think. Jordan landed a hard punch to his ribs and proceeded to brutally push back his opponent once he doubled over in pain. Without the element of surprise, the assassin was forced to rely on his most basic skills. Sword and pistol hung unused on his sash. Every time he thought to wield them, the Baron would lurch forward in threat and occupy his attention. Even so, Jordan had nothing but confidence in the success of his mission. He still had one more trick up his sleeve.

During the brawl, Jordan had managed to back Mikhail to the far side where glass windows gave view to the ocean. At this point Mikhail caught on to what Jordan was planning and sneered at him.

" _Gryaznyy_ water rat thinks himself clever, does he now?" he taunted. He took wary steps forward, hands clenching reflexively.

"More clever then you at least." Jordan said, and without much affair promptly retracted his hidden knife and dug it into his target's shoulder. Mikhail wheezed in shock and his eyes bulged as the assassin twisted the blade. Clothe tore to reveal a small pin of a familiar red and white cross placed on his inner shirt. Blood was staining everything faster than usual, so Jordan took no time in shoving the man (the Templar) back, glass shattering as he plunged to the murky waters below. Like any good assassin should do, Jordan squinted down to make sure his kill was complete. No movement guaranteed the sinking body was done for. Now for the rest of the fun.

Up on deck, his men had subdued the rival crew, and had them kneeling down in a group. He caught the eyes of Dan in triumph. "Well I've done my job for today. Ya hear that, lads? Go on and take whatever valuables ya want but leave the men be. Rum's on me tonight!"

The answering cheer was loud and wild. Gold was collected, crates were looted, and the rouges had full pockets as they made their way back to the pirate ship. Jordan appraised the captive crew in a judgmental manner before shrugging them off. There was no need for new members and he was ready to depart without a hitch. That almost happened until, for the second time that day, someone took Jordan by surprise and boldly slammed into him.

He stumbled inelegantly, right in front if his own crew, while hands yanked and pulled at his coat. As Jordan looked down, he wondered if he should be surprised that it was the same ambusher as before. The Russian lad with a spitfire attitude. Jordan liked that. Not so much being made a fool.

"I think that's enough of that..." Jordan nabbed his wrists like last time, "... and mind sharing your name? If it comforts you, I'm Jordan Mathewson, infamous pirate captain, terror of the seas, and-". Here Jordan leaned in close enough for Aleks to feel his breathe fan across his cheek. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with me. Just so your shipmates won't get any bright ideas about following us."

No answer, just a heated glare. Well, that was no skin off of Jordan's nose. He promptly dragged his new hostage away from sunlight to the dank dreariness of below deck. For now he'll have to stay in the brig, at least until Jordan figured out what to do with him.

Tossed into the small cell-like area, Aleks staggered up and faced his captor in fervor. "Fuck you! Do you know who I am? I'm Aleksandr Vitalyevich, son of Baron Mikhail Vitalyevich, and you and your cursed ship will be blasted to bits as soon he hears about this!"

"Enjoy your stay here, Aleksandr. No worries, you've given me a grand idea of how to handle your situation."

Jordan nearly skipped his way out leaving Aleksandr, thoughts of gold on his mind, leaving a bitter Russian behind in a dark cell by his lonesome.

Dan was near ready to give orders to depart when Jordan stepped out with a flair. "Listen up you motley lot!", he shouted across to the crew of the Zhemchug, "As you darn should know, I've taken the Baron's son hostage. He'll be treated properly enough here but if you want him back safely, I will require some monetary persuasion. No less than 100 pounds will be accepted. You can find us at Port Royal of Jamaica, but don't even think about staging some daring rescue, 'less you want another dead Vitalyevich in this world. Good luck in your journey fellow seamen!". He gave the order to sail off, ready to put some distance between the two ships.

"Captain, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Dan had questioned him later, once they had made some headway. The rest of the crew was in a generally jovial mood with the exception of the ever cautious Daniel.

"Oh please, we have this under control. We get the gold, they get the lad, and then we part our merry ways, never to see each other again. Simple!"

"Yes but what about the boy? Does he know that... about how you killed his father? Surely that will affect him and his attitude towards you. Not to mention he'll spend god knows how long in the brig..."

Jordan snorted and slapped Dan amiably on the back. "You worry too much. I know his type, rich younglings that throw tantrums whenever they don't get their way. He'll be quiet and obedient soon enough, so relax. I doubt anything life-changing is about to happen. Well, other than the massive amount of gold we'll be receiving."

**Author's Note:**

> yeah there's gonna be a part 2 but first I'm thinking of writing an immortalanex thing... maybe another video game au? Or a sequel to Tessellate!!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Zhemchug - Pearl
> 
> ukhodi! ostavit' svoy korabl'! - Go away! Leave this ship!
> 
> gryaznyy - filthy


End file.
